The Hitting Zone

After lunch we went back to the hotel to shower, pack up and load everything in the car. Mrs. Atkins thought about some places they could stop by on the way home to show me, but in the end, they decided to save it for another weekend when we had more time. It was still a long drive home, plus there was homework to worry about.

By the time we arrived at their house, it was late afternoon. Mrs. Atkins went to the kitchen to start dinner. Mr. Atkins went to his office to return some calls for their work. The boys and I went to our rooms to put away our dirty clothes and to prepare for school tomorrow.

Noah and I did our homework together with the exception of math. He was still doing Algebra, while I had breezed through my pre-calculus. We finished in time for dinner and headed down to the kitchen to see if food was on the table.

Instead, what we found was a table full of papers, envelopes, postcards, and the such. The table looked like it belonged in a post office. Zeke stood by the table, arms crossed, staring at it all.

"What's all this?" Noah's eyes widen, implying that this isn't a normal occurrence.

"College brochures from all the schools interested in Zeke!" Mrs. Atkins announced proudly as she walked in with another armful of mail. She dropped it on the table. "Alright Zeke, how do you want to sort it? By division one, two, three? I'll definitely trash the community college offers. Not that there isn't anything wrong with community colleges...you just have better options." She grabbed some of the bigger packets. "We could also sort by the size of the scholarship offer. Look! This is school is offering 75% right off the bat!"

Noah ran over to look at what she picked up. Then he frowned. "Mom. That's a small D2 (A/N: Division two) school. Not even a well known school for that matter. Are you trying to hide Zeke away from the scouts? No one will pay attention to him there!"

Mrs. Atkins frowned. "Listen here, young man. Nothing beats a free education. That will open plenty of doors for you in the future if baseball doesn't work out."

Noah rolled his eyes. "So will becoming a pro. The minimum is 550,000$. If Zeke can get picked in the first round, he's practically guaranteed a million. The number one pick last year got 6.7 million. You can easily pay for college then."

Mrs. Atkins mood deflated. She looked at Zeke and sighed. "Just remember to pick out five schools for official visits. You're running out of time." She walked back to the kitchen. "Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes. Make sure to get somewhat organized please. Have Noah and Jake help you if you need it." She disappeared into the other room.

"What do you wanna do, Zeke?" Noah asked, excited to dig in the pile. "We can cheat and just organize it by what they sent: postcards, letters, packages."

Zeke glanced to the kitchen, where his mom went. Then he looked down at Noah. "We'll start by dividing them up by division. Pull out your phone in case you need to look some up." Zeke also pulled out his own phone.

I stood there awkwardly. "What should I do?"

"We'll hand you the mail after we figure out the division." Zeke declared. "You'll make the piles and keep them separated." He picked a few out of the big pile of mail. "These are all D1 schools. They're well known so I don't need to look them up. Okay, let's get started."

Zeke put us to work. Mostly me. Zeke was quick to pick out brochures and mail that belonged to big schools, and told me their division level. The big pile of mail started to dwindle as I made smaller piles on the floor. Noah took his time looking up the schools they haven't heard of.

It didn't take long to have it all sorted. The three of us stared at the four piles on the floor: D1, D2, D3, and the 'other' stack.

"Let me go get something to put them in!" Noah ran off and came back in two minutes , holding some buckets. He put each small pile of mail in their own bucket. "There. That way it'll be easier to move. And to add more mail as it comes." Noah looked up at Zeke, excited. "Will you start opening the D1 brochures and offers? Let's see if there's anything good!"

Zeke rubbed the back of his neck, looking tired. "Maybe another day. It's almost dinner time. I don't want to make a mess going through it." He let out a sigh. "I'm going to tell mom we finished and help her bring out the food. Go get the twins." He left us alone with all of his mail pushed up against the wall.

Noah let out a sigh as he watched his brother walk away. "How annoying."

"What..?" I asked, confused with what he meant.

"Zeke. He's annoying. He keeps putting off making a decision for his future." Noah looked at me. "Did you know that most high school players will sign their letter of intent in November. Or February. There are specific signing days, yet he just let them pass like it's no big deal."

"Is it because he wants to go pro?" I asked.

"That's part of it, I think. But he doesn't want to admit it aloud. Dad tells us to make a decision on what we want to do without being concerned about money, but Zeke is practical."

I nodded. Always.

"Zeke knows that he has the best chance of being a pro out of all of us. I'm too young. The twins are mediocre at best." My lips twitched. "He also likes competition. He wants to compete with the best and the best play professionally. There's also the College World Series to consider..but only if he sincerely thinks about college."

"What do you think he'll do?"

Noah grinned and put his hands on his head, stretching. "Want to make a bet?"

My lips twitched. "That would be unfair. You know him better."

"No one really knows what he'll pick. I just believe he'll go straight to the pros. He's just that good." Noah said. "Normal ball players would be just happy batting .300. That's getting a hit 3 out of 10 at bats. Zeke is batting over .900 right now and isn't satisfied. That's the making of an all-star. College ball would just be too easy for him."

I thought about it for a second. "So...I can go pro too?"

Noah dropped his arms, staring at me. Then he let out a sharp laugh and hauled me into a headlock. "You punk. Bragging like that!"

The rest of the family found us like that, laughing. Noah was stilling rubbing my head and accusing me of bragging. But in my mind, I thought it was a fair presumption. I had just as many outs as Zeke...one. I don't hit as much or can smash out home runs, but I could get on base.